I'm Much Too Lazy To Think Of Something Creative As The Title

sat in the classroom staring out the window completely zoned out. Mostly day-dreaming about softball. I had been obsessed with my batting skills for most of the winter. Spring was approaching fast and my bunting had gone downhill. I didn't like bunting at all but...it is what it is.
The math teacher, Mrs. McDevitt was supposed to be teaching, not torturing. I mean, I know there's a similarity in spelling there, but honestly. . . I was bored out of my mind. I watched a pair of doves sitting on the branch feeding their little babies.
"Roxanne." A voice snapped me back to reality.
"What? Where's the fire?" I shot back sarcastically.
"Would you like to answer the question on the board?" Mrs. McDevitt said. Not asking, telling.
Not really. I stood up and walked to the board. I picked up a peice of chalk. And looked at the problem. I couldn't ever read it. So I just as I was about to write the number three the bell rang. In a hurry I dropped the chalk and raced to my seat, grabbed my black leather messenger bag and flew out the door to my locker ignoring the protests of Mrs. McDevitt.
My best friend joined me and my locker. "I heard about what happened in Algebra," Ian Triminnick said smiling. He had a rather crooked smile to match his sparkling blue eyes. With his high cheekbones and straight black hair, he drove girls rather crazy. I never thought he was hot or anything, but alot of girls did, no, do. I mean he was good looking, but my best friend. I would never date him, that would be gross. I had a crush on another guy.
"How could you have possibly heard about it already? It happened last period!" I said exasperated.
"I heard it though the grapevine." He admitted shamefully. "Hey do you have practice tonight?"
"Uhh...yeah." I said looking at my schedule. He was asking about my baseball practice. I was the short stop on the team with the best arm on the team as well. I could throw further then the coach. Of course I was also the one who could throw the most accurately, I had a eight hundred batting average too. I guess you could say I was an allstar.
"Awh...come on your always at practice..." He whined with a sad expression on his face.
"Sorry but that's what being on a team means."
"Can't you skip?"
"No! Are kidding?! Sheila will friggin' kill me!" Sheila, my baseball coach, would kill me if she knew I was skipping.
"Ughh. . . a new movie is coming out today and I wanted to go see it." He whined some more.
"Quit your whining." I said playfully punching his chest. "Hey look who it is." His gaze fixed on something or some one, behind me. I turned around to see what it was. My heart then started racing. I couldn't ever understand why this happened to me, but when I had to talk to a cute boy, my throat dried up and prevented me from saying anything. Or anything intelligent at least. I was confident in everything I did, like baseball, but it was algebra and boys that got me.
Behind me was Wesley Hammer. The cutest boy I had ever set my gaze on. His shaggy thick dark brown hair was cut to make the new fashion scene. His high cheekbones were what was so cute about him. And those dark brown eyes were so deep, I felt as if I could drown in them. I know, I know, so girly. It was sadistic what the kid did to me.


((Read it and weep))